When she was found by the men of the first police car to reach the scene, she was unconscious, a few minutes' worth of life left in her body.
13.
DOMINIQUE glanced about the bedroom of the penthouse. It was her first contact with surroundings she was ready to recognize. She knew she had been brought here after many days in a hospital. The bedroom seemed lacquered with light. It's that clarity of crystal over everything, she thought; that has remained; it will remain forever. She saw Wynand standing by her bed. He was watching her. He looked amused.
She remembered seeing him at the hospital. He had not looked amused then. She knew the doctor had told him she would not survive, that first night. She had wanted to tell them all that she would, that she had no choice now but to live; only it did not seem important to tell people anything, ever.
Now she was back. She could feel bandages on her throat, her legs, her left arm. But her hands lay before her on the blanket, and the gauze had been removed; there were only a few thin red scars left.
"You blasted little fool!" said Wynand happily. "Why did you have to make such a good job of it?"
Lying on the white pillow, with her smooth gold hair and a white, high-necked hospital gown, she looked younger than she had ever looked as a child. She had the quiet radiance presumed and never found in childhood: the full consciousness of certainty, of innocence, of peace.
"I ran out of gas," she said, "and I was waiting there in my car when suddenly ... "
"I've already told that story to the police. So has the night watchman. But didn't you know that glass must be handled with discretion?"
Gail looks rested, she thought, and very confident. It has changed everything for him, too; in the same way.
"It didn't hurt," she said.
"Next time you want to play the innocent bystander, let me coach you."
"They believe it though, don't they?"
"Oh yes, they believe it. They have to. You almost died. I don't see why he had to save the watchman's life and almost take yours."
"Who?"
"Howard, my dear. Howard Roark."
"What has he to do with it?"
"Darling, you're not being questioned by the police. You will be, though, and you'll have to be more convincing than that. However, I'm sure you'll succeed. They won't think of the Stoddard trial."
"Oh."
"You did it then and you'll always do it. Whatever you think of him, you'll always feel what I feel about his work."
"Gail, you're glad I did it?"
"Yes."
She saw him looking down at her hand that lay on the edge of the bed. Then he was on his knees, his lips pressed to her hand, not raising it, not touching it with his fingers, only with his mouth. That was the sole confession he would permit himself of what her days in the hospital had cost him. She lifted her other hand and moved it over his hair. She thought: It will be worse for you than if I had died, Gail, but it will be all right, it won't hurt you, there's no pain left in the world, nothing to compare with the fact that we exist: he, you and I — you've understood all that matters, though you don't know you've lost me.
He lifted his head and got up.
"I didn't intend to reproach you in any way. Forgive me."
"I won't die, Gail. I feel wonderful."
"You look it."
"Have they arrested him?"
"He's out on bail."
"You're happy?"
"I'm glad you did it and that it was for him. I'm glad he did it. He had to."
"Yes. And it will be the Stoddard trial again."
"Not quite."
"You've wanted another chance, Gail? All these years?"
"Yes."
"May I see the papers?"
"No. Not until you're up."
"Not even the Banner!"
"Particularly not the Banner."
"I love you, Gail. If you stick to the end ... "
"Don't offer me any bribes. This is not between you and me. Not even between him and me."
"But between you and God?"
"If you want to call it that. But we won't discuss it. Not until after it's over. You have a visitor waiting for you downstairs. He's been here every day."
"Who?"
"Your lover. Howard Roark. Want to let him thank you now?"
The gay mockery, the tone of uttering the most preposterous thing he could think of, told her how far he was from guessing the rest. She said:
"Yes. I want to see him. Gail, if I decide to make him my lover?"
"I'll kill you both. Now don't move, lie flat, the doctor said you must take it easy, you've got twenty-six assorted stitches all over you."
He walked out and she heard him descending the stairs.
When the first policeman had reached the scene of the explosion, he had found, behind the building, on the shore of the river, the plunger that had set off the dynamite. Roark stood by the plunger, his hands in his pockets, looking at the remnants of Cortlandt.
"What do you know about this, buddy?" the policeman asked.
"You'd better arrest me," said Roark. "I'll talk at the trial."
He had not added another word in reply to all the official questions that followed.
It was Wynand who got him released on bail, in the early hours of the morning. Wynand had been calm at the emergency hospital where he had seen Dominique's wounds and had been told she would not live. He had been calm while he telephoned, got a county judge out of bed and arranged Roark's bail. But when he stood in the warden's office of a small county jail, he began to shake suddenly. "You bloody fools!" he said through his teeth and there followed every obscenity he had learned on the waterfront. He forgot all the aspects of the situation save one: Roark being held behind bars. He was Stretch Wynand of Hell's Kitchen again and this was the kind of fury that had shattered him in sudden flashes in those days, the fury he had felt when standing behind a crumbling wall, waiting to be killed. Only now he knew that he was also Gail Wynand, the owner of an empire, and he couldn't understand why some sort of legal procedure was necessary, why he didn't smash this jail, with his fists or through his papers, it was all one to him at the moment, he wanted to kill, he had to kill, as that night behind the wall, in defense of his life.
He managed to sign papers, he managed to wait until Roark was brought out to him. They walked out together, Roark leading him by the wrist, and by the time they reached the car, Wynand was calm. In the car, Wynand asked:
"You did it, of course?"
"Of course."
"We'll fight it out together."
"If you want to make it your battle."
"At the present estimate, my personal fortune amounts to forty million dollars. That should be enough to hire any lawyer you wish or the whole profession."
"I won't use a lawyer."
"Howard! You're not going to submit photographs again?"
"No. Not this time."
Roark entered the bedroom and sat down on a chair by the bed. Dominique lay still, looking at him. They smiled at each other. Nothing has to be said, not this time either, she thought.
She asked:
"You were in jail?"
"For a few hours."
"What was it like?"
"Don't start acting about it as Gail did."
"Gail took it very badly?"
"Very."
"I won't."
"I might have to go back to a cell for years. You knew that when you agreed to help me."
"Yes. I knew that."
"I'm counting on you to save Gail, if I go."
"Counting on me?'
He looked at her and shook his head. "Dearest ... " It sounded
like a reproach.
"Yes?" she whispered.
"Don't you know by now that it was a trap I set for you?"
"How?"
"What would you do if I hadn't asked you to help me?"